


In Retrospect

by corvidae9



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, holidays am i right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-09
Updated: 2007-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22454839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidae9/pseuds/corvidae9
Summary: Christmas never turns out the way it ought. (seven holidays that could have gone better, and two that finally did)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 11
Collections: HD-Holidays





	In Retrospect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irya_angelus](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=irya_angelus).



> Originally written for irya_angelus in the 2006 HD Holidays fest, and at long last transferred here to AO3.

"That's just sad. Distressing, even."

Harry narrowed his eyes and shot a look over a shoulder that was draped with fuzzy silver garland, still holding the end in one hand. "Can I help you?"

"Honestly, Potter," said Draco as he entered the room. "It looks like you're the one that needs the help."

Pointing through his handful of garland, Harry frowned. "I'm fine, thanks. Be even better if you share that cider."

"Pfft," scoffed Draco as he came a little closer, inspecting the mostly naked tree. "Who says I'm sharing with someone who isn't smart enough to decorate a damned tree the easy way?"

"In the nine years that we've been doing this, when has your flawed opinion had any effect on the way I do this?" said Harry, arching an eyebrow.

"That's not fair. In fact, I've only really had--" said Draco, looking up in thought, "--one year to try." He moved even closer, holding out one of the mugs in his hand.

Harry let his fingers lace through Draco's where they wrapped around the proffered mug but didn't take it. "So, what? You're going to start holding out on me now?"

Smiling, Draco leaned, too, stopping mere inches from Harry's face. "Not bloody likely."

Harry grinned and closed the distance between them to press his lips to Draco's, which were already overly warm and tasting of mulled cider. Finally taking proper possession of the mug, Harry pulled away just enough to take a breath and murmur, "Thank you."

"You look ridiculous," said Draco, caustic as ever, though his words were obviously said with affection.

"I'm _working_ ," said Harry, leaning in for another kiss before straightening up. "This is entirely necessary to the job at hand."

Draco toyed with the end of the garland and smirked. "One well-placed spell and we could move on to more suitable activities."

Turning toward the tree, Harry asked disingenuously, "Oh? We baking cookies this year, too?"

Disgusted, Draco threw a hand up with a huff. "Forget it." He turned away to go, muttering, "I'll just leave you to your Happy Christmas House Elf act--"

Harry took a quick step forward and caught him around the waist, nipping at his earlobe. "You're too easy to get to, Malfoy."

"Didn't think for one second you'd let me walk away, Potter," said Draco, smug as he leaned against Harry, his free hand moving up to slip into Harry's hair. "Now who's easy?"

"Not us," murmured Harry, steadily dragging nipping kisses down the side of Draco's neck. "Nothing about any of this has ever been easy."

< ~----~ >

< ~----~ >

[[ _The first year? You remember that one._  


_I try not to, but you insist on reminding me._

_Denial. Utter, crushing denial._

_I'm serious about the reminding. It's not polite._

_Bugger 'polite'._

_I've made inroads in your lack of civility, I know I have._ ]]

~---~ 

The mood at Grimmauld Place bordered on obscene; a forced cheer tinged with the lingering scents of the morning's meager breakfast and the echo left behind by the friends that would never see another Christmas. Anyone else would have said it was unfair that a boy who had so recently discovered that Christmas applied to him too should be subjected to it, but Harry didn't want to hear it. Some things just were the way they were.

His mind, however, could not be turned away from the newish arrival two doors down from his. The thought of the Order spy whose cover had been blown occupied his thoughts and kept his body on alert, waiting with dread for the next time that the new arrival's Dark Mark flared into what had to be searing pain.

Professor McGonagall spent a great deal of time working out ways of possibly blocking its influence, but in the end could only refer to Professor Snape's notes on certain potions that might be of some assistance in dulling the pain. In the meantime and in between, the new arrival rarely ventured from his room.

Harry couldn't stop thinking about him, it was true. He still couldn't stand the Ferret, but now he was just another person Harry had to save-- one more person for whom he had to win. Except for that bit about how Malfoy had never been just another of anyone, and how Harry had never been able to quite turn his mind from him in all the years they'd been at one another's throats.

That was as good a reason as any for what had happened between them what seemed like forever ago, though he _knew_ it had been the day after Halloween. It was the only reason Harry was willing to consider. Still, Harry found himself standing outside Malfoy's door without a clue as to what he was about to do next.

A muffled cry from inside the room was followed immediately by a _thump_ , and Harry's hand was on the doorknob, turning and shoving the door open in one smooth motion, unhindered by the fact that it had been locked. Malfoy was on the ground, trying to push himself up on his good right arm, his left pulled to his chest. Through gritted teeth and a fallen lock of pale platinum blond, he snarled, "Get out, Potter."

"Malfoy," Harry could only stare. "I--"

"GET. OUT." Malfoy snarled again, though it lost some effect as he stumbled and hissed in pain.

Harry pulled the door shut behind him instead and came closer, murmuring, "Let me help."

Panting, Malfoy turned his back on Harry, yanked a bottle of bright green potion off of the table and took a huge swallow. "I've got all the help I need."

"It's just-- It's my fault," murmured Harry, edging forward.

"Yes! Yes it fucking is! All of it is your fault!" Malfoy bit off, taking a step back. "Just stay away from me."

"Malfoy, I'm sorry," Harry insisted, closing the distance between them and taking the bottle out of Malfoy's shaking hand and corked it again.

Harry reached to set the bottle on the side table, but the motion was interrupted as Malfoy grabbed Harry by the shirt and shook him hard. "Didn't you hear me? I said get ou-ow! Fucking shite ow--" he swore, pulling his left arm tight against his body again.

The upended bottle rolled off of the tabletop and landed on the rug, but Harry didn't notice, his hands coming up to steady Malfoy by the elbows, unconsciously murmuring more apologies as his best attempt at soothing.

"It _was_ your fault, you bastard. It was you," Malfoy whined, ceasing for the most part his weak struggle to break away. "I couldn't Occlude you. That whole... whatever the fuck it was that happened between us," Malfoy said brokenly, cradling his arm more closely. "I couldn't fucking hide it because I'm not good enough, and I couldn't--"

"Couldn't stop thinking about it," finished Harry, at a loss for what more he could say to that, and as such, was totally unprepared for the fists that came at him next, pummeling him harder than he would have thought possible, given Malfoy's current state. He managed to catch hold of Malfoy's upper arms again, though it took more of an effort to hold him still. "Hey!" he shouted, shaking Malfoy once, hard.

"It didn't mean anything!" shouted Malfoy right back as he finally pulled free. Panting, he turning a murderous eye on Harry.

Harry tried to say, "I don't kn--" but whatever he didn't know was lost as Malfoy punched him, not as hard as he could otherwise have done, but hard enough to shove him back a half step. Lifting a hand to his face, Harry opened his mouth again and said, "Wh--" and was stopped short by Malfoy's mouth on his, a clammy hand covering his own over his cheek. Harry shut his eyes and leaned in, fisting his hand in the back of Malfoy's wrinkled shirt and kissing back, moving on pure instinct and want.

Malfoy flailed and then struck out at Harry again with the hand wedged between them as he pulled away, eyes glassy and red. "I fucking hate you," he snarled. "I always will."

Harry's fingers flexed and tugged, pulling Malfoy back against him by the shirt without resistance as he murmured between rough, desperate kisses, "I know."

< ~----~ >

[[ _As bad as that was, I'm sure the second was worse._  


_I can't decide which I want to not be reminded of the most._

_I can._

_The safehouse_ was _in pretty bad shape._

_..._

_You see? And you know squalor. You'd know._

_..._

_I never want to be separated from my money again._

_..._

_...among other things. Don't look at me like that._ ]] 

~---~ 

Potter stood with a harsh inhale and ran his hands through his hair. "This is fucking ridiculous."

Draco kicked at the moth-eaten sofa, convinced it was no better than the creaky sway-back bed, which in turn complimented the bare light bulb hanging in the musty bathroom. "You're telling me. This place is an utter shitehole," he observed. Casting not one but two cleansing charms on the sofa before giving up and sitting instead on the straight-backed chair nearby (after only one cleansing charm for it, too). "I know I haven't been the most model citizen, but what've _you_ done to deserve this?"

Eyes narrow, Potter looked over at Draco. "The fact that I'm even here is what's ridiculous, prat. We destroyed all the bloody Horcruxes-- I'm supposed to be out there doing the fighting now too, not hiding like some sort of coward!"

Outwardly impassive, Draco watched him kick the sofa in almost the same place he had hard enough to elicit a hollow cracking sound. "You're not hiding. You're waiting. _I'm_ hiding. Though I still can't bloody well fathom why I'm here and not Greece, or Fiji or God. Sodding California at the very least." He looked up with mock surprise. "Oh! I remember. Because the Ministry's frozen the family assets and the Dark Lord managed to extract the information on my heretofore hidden offshore accounts from my mother." He didn't bother mentioning how that had come about -- that might be more painful than sarcastic. Unfortunately, his complaints struck exactly the wrong chord with Harry.

"You want to go somewhere Malfoy?" snarled Potter, leaning in to speak directly at eye level with Draco. "Where do you want to go? I have enough money to send you there myself. It might sting a little at first, but then you'll be where you really want to be, and that's what matters, right? What you want?"

"Do you know what I _want_ , Potter?" Draco spat right back, his thin veneer of nonchalant toxicity replaced by indignant anger. "I want for this to be over. I want the fucking Dark Lord dead, and I want you to not die doing it. And I want this Mark gone, and I want a decent, goddamn bed. Is that too fucking much to ask?"

Though he was still fuming, Potter exhaled hard as he set his forehead against Draco's, setting his palms on Draco's thighs. "Apparently? Yes."

Draco wasn't quite sure where to put his hands at first-- they'd been shagging for... a year already? But he was loathe to admit that their relationship was anything but a brilliant shag with someone he happened to be unfortunately attracted to; perfectly acceptable given the fact that he wasn't expecting to live long enough to deal with long-term ramifications. Still there were days he woke up tangled up around or on or under Potter and could suddenly see a time when there might not be a war to fight or the constant knowledge that every breath might be a very painful last. Sometimes he could almost see himself spending his life like that; wrapped up with the great idiot that invariably ended up murmuring and nuzzling his neck or sleepily rocking his hips as his hands slid further under the blanket. _If_ they could both manage to survive said war.

Draco couldn't decide which was the more terrifying prospect.

Jaw tight, Draco settled for setting them on either side of Potter's neck, shutting his eyes with a sigh of annoyance as he said quietly, "What good are you to me, then?" He could feel Potter trying to smile as he gave his standard answer.

"None. As usual."

Draco tilted his head and kissed Potter to stop him from saying anything stupid or potentially awkward, standing slowly as he did. He didn't break away even though he ended up just a few inches taller than Potter at his full height, though eventually he did take a breath and murmured, "I'm not shagging you on that bed, though."

Potter's eyes darted away and back with a wicked smirk. "Anything wrong with the wall?"

~---~ 

The first thought that Draco had when he woke up was that his face was cold; the second was that the homespun blanket was scratchy where it was pulled up under his chin. The third was that he was at least alive, which was good, even if it meant that the arm pulled tightly across his chest belonged to the sodding Boy Who Lived. Even so, he blamed it on the cold and his own muzzy, half-waking state when he ran his hand along that arm and threaded his fingers through Potter's with what was dangerously close to a sigh. It wasn't supposed to have been one of those terrifying mornings, Christmas or not; the shitehole of a safehouse should have precluded that handily and, yet, had not.

"'S Christmas," murmured Potter, his warm breath just barely sliding past the collar of the thick jumper Draco was still wearing.

"Don't get too excited about it," Draco said. "I didn't get you anything."

Potter snickered. "I don't feel all that bad, then."

"What?" Draco said, his head popping up off of the pillow and craning his neck to look over his shoulder. "I didn't get a present?" Potter had the audacity to laugh harder. "I'm serious here. You have no credible excuse."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter said with a shake. "You'd be lucky to get a lump of coal."

"Unacceptable," said Draco, having more difficulty in holding onto the scowl as he rolled onto his back. "That's just not done."

Five hard knocks at the door interrupted Potter's answer and sent them both to their feet, wands drawn more quickly than seemed possible. Potter stalked the length of the small flat to the door and peered through the peephole, not entirely relaxed as he called out, "Yeah?"

"It's us, Harry," said a sickeningly familiar voice from the other side of the door. "I've got news."

"How do I know it's you?"

"You remember how you ended up stuck to Ron at the hip the last time you decided not to include us in the plot?" Called a voice far different from the first, a third chiming in next.

"Remember what we made you do to deactivate the Goo Glue?"

"That's still not funny," said Potter as he shook his head and opened the door for Lupin and the Weasley twins, who came in rubbing their hands together and looking over their shoulders. "Merry Christmas! Tell me Mrs. Weasley sent food?"

Lupin pulled Potter into a half-hug while the twins eyed Draco warily and offered a nod and a simultaneous, "Hey."

"Molly didn't send anything," said Lupin as he pulled away.

The first twin muttered, "We haven't seen her yet today."

Potter's look of confusion persisted. "What's going on?"

The twins looked at one another and then back at Potter, but it was Lupin that spoke. "Voldemort is shifting his forces around-- they're taking position at Cairn Kenidjack. Though we're not exactly sure why, our source gave us a layout of the area and a rough idea of where everyone will be."

The look on Potter's face was the very model of inner turmoil, not surprising given the fact that Gryffindors in general seemed congenitally incapable of repressing any emotion. Draco crept closer, arms tightly crossed.

"We think we can take him there. He's planning something big, and they're all convinced it's key to his victory..." Lupin hesitated. "Whatever it is, we can't afford to let him succeed. And that means--"

"That means it's time," murmured Potter, shoulders coming back unconsciously as he stood straighter.

"Hold on-- what do you mean you _don't know_ what he's planning?" Draco finally said, disguising the roiling tangle of fear and dread as best he could. "What did Severus say about it?"

"We, err--" Lupin said carefully, "haven't heard from Severus in at least two weeks."

Meeting Lupin's gaze, Draco shook his head slowly. "That's not possible."

"I assure you," said Lupin, voice pained, "It is."

"Let's go," Potter said suddenly, reaching around a twin that had been standing silently (for once) to reach his coat from the hook there.

"Wait," Draco said, though he knew what he was about to say was sheer madness. "I'm coming too."

Potter whipped his head around to look at him. "No. They'll kill you on sight, you know that," he said, voice lowering again as he moved closer. "I'll-- be back. And if I'm not..."

"As if that wasn't true for anyone in this room!" Draco shouted right at Potter's face as he shoved past him and the Weasels to reach his own coat. "I'm not going to sit here like some bloody damsel awaiting a rescue. At least I'll know first hand if your dumb arse is dead or not."

"You could _die_ out there," Potter insisted.

"What else is new, Potter?" said Draco, shoving his shoulder. "Where have you been these last ten years?"

"Harry?" ventured Lupin. "Maybe..."

"Doing _this_ ," snarled Potter, disregarding Lupin. "Fighting Voldemort. I know what I'm doing, alright?"

"Good, then don't be an idiot," said Draco. "You know you'll need the help."

Potter turned the snottiest tone he owned on Draco. "Maybe I don't want your help."

"Now you're just being an arse and hoping I'll tell you to piss off and have a nice life," said Draco dismissively as he slipped his coat on, ignoring a low grumble in stereo from the Weasels.

"What?" Potter sputtered, caught out. "That's not it at all!"

"Oh, bollocks, Potter. It's part of the hero act, and it won't work on me." Draco turned to Lupin. "Where?"

Lupin looked from Potter to Draco and back, finally speaking as Potter shrugged and threw his hands up with a muttered swear. "The Hog's Head. We'll head out to the Cairn from there."

"Give us ten minutes," said Potter, wearing his authoritative voice. "We'll meet you there."

The door had barely shut behind Lupin and the Weasels when Potter turned to Draco, clearly none too pleased.

Draco scowled. "Don't give me that look, P--" 

Potter didn't need words to interrupt him, crushing him close in a hard kiss that seemed endless. The dingy flat and the impending battle-- none of it was real for as long as time was suspended there between them. In that drawn-out moment, Draco realized he knew exactly which prospect was the most terrifying after all-- because if they did manage to survive, there would be no prying him from this bloody Gryffindor.

< ~----~ >

[[

_Granted. That third one was marginally better._

_More than 'marginally'. I'm brilliant, I know._

_How does 'sneaking about like teenagers' equate to 'brilliant'?_

_Finding you for one thing. Making it back before anyone started worrying about my being missing, for another._.

_All that means is that you were exhibiting uncommon amounts of resourcefulness._

_I'm telling you. I excel at sneakery._

_You still would have made a terrible Slytherin._ ]] 

~---~ 

They stared at one another across the kitchen table of 12 Grimmauld Place, restored to Harry's possession at the end of the War and complete with a new Fidelius charm, trying not to. Harry shoved his eggs around the plate as Draco spun his teacup slowly in its saucer in precise quarter turns. The clock ticked over and Harry's foot began tapping, rapidly silenced by Draco's bare foot covering his.

"It'd be weird, trying to do Christmas here, anyway," said Harry, having divided his eggs into two equal piles. "I mean, it isn't as if we both live here or something. And you know, you want to be with family. Or, I mean, Pansy."

"She's family, Potter," said Draco in no uncertain terms. "And the Weasels-- _Weasleys_ \-- they really wanted you to spend the day with them. So it works out pretty well, then."

Harry nodded, overenthusiastic in his agreement. "No, yeah, you're right."

Draco eyed the food on Harry's plate, suddenly stopping his toying with the teacup. He pushed his chair back and stood, pulling Harry's hand off of his fork as he circled the small table. "Come on."

Confused, Harry stood and followed nonetheless. "Where are we going?"

"I've got a present for you," smirked Draco.

"Yeah?" Harry paused in the sitting room to tug back on Draco to get him to turn around, immediately leaning up to drop his mouth to the side of Draco's neck as he did. "It's early."

Draco arched into Harry's mouth with a pleased sound in the back of his throat. "Not suitable for opening in front of mixed company."

Pulling Draco flush against him in one rough tug, Harry nibbled on the soft skin of his neck, hands straying further as he murmured, "Yes please."

The fireplace sparked up green and Ron's face was in the hearth and speaking before anyone properly answered the call. "Harry? Where are you, mate? Mum's having a fit about having everyone here in time to set up for lunch and-- UGH. Oh god, my eyes! Call me back. UGH."

Harry sighed loudly and dropped his face against Draco's shoulder, muttering, "God damn it."

Using the fingers threaded through Harry's hair, Draco lifted his head to force Harry to meet his eyes. "Hey. Your family is looking for you."

"I'm so sorry I ever had this place reconnected to the network," said Harry, genuinely apologetic as he stroked Draco's hip.

"Yes, that _was_ quite stupid," Draco deadpanned, talking a reluctant step away. "But you should probably still go."

< ~----~ >

At 12:45am, Christmas morning, a tapping at the window woke Draco, who had been sleeping soundly in his room at the Parkinson Manor, now entirely property of one Pansy Parkinson, also known as Draco's best friend. He rose from the bed and padded to the window to find a large snowy owl that he knew all too well standing on the sill outside the frosted glass.

Rolling his eyes, Draco opened the window and took the bit of folded parchment from her beak, knowing she hadn't come far if it wasn't tied to her foot instead. She made no move to leave as he read the note.

>   
>  **_Down here._ **  
> 

Draco leaned immediately out of the window to find Harry standing on the ground covered in a thin layer of snow, rubbing his hands together and looking up expectantly. He smiled and held one hand up with a tentative, "Hi."

Foolishly glad to see him, Draco called down, "Couldn't stay away, Potter?"

Harry's smile widened into a genuine grin that threatened to split his face in two, and only enhanced by the pink tinge to his cheeks and nose. "The way I figure it, I've got three hours or so before anyone notices I'm missing."

Stealing a glance at the clock on the mantle, Draco arched an eyebrow. "Only three?"

"Yeah, more or less," smirked Harry. "Depends on when Ron decides to sneak back from Luna's and finds out I'm gone."

Draco laughed. "Why exactly are you still wasting time down there, then, you utter dolt?"

In a fraction of a second, Harry appeared in the room just behind Draco, letting his hands circle Draco's waist and slide down to his hipbones, nuzzling his neck. "Had to follow Hedwig. Didn't know what room you were in."

"Mmhmm," sighed Draco, leaning for only a moment before reaching up to shut the window and then turning to face Harry. Hands already shoving Harry's jacket off of his shoulders, Draco spoke lazily through lowered eyelashes, making a show of his feigned nonchalance. "Less talking, more stripping. Time is of the essence here."

< ~----~ >

[[ __

_I could have killed you, that fourth one. I might have if I'd thought I could get away with it._

_Liar._

_Yes, but not about this. Hmm. Perhaps just done away with a handful of Weasleys._

_It wasn't that bad!_

_On a scale from zero to Cruciatus?_

_I'd put it at a mild, 'ouch'._

_..._

_Fine. I'll grant you a loud yelp. But that's it._ ]]

"You _can_ go inside, you know. Even if you annoy someone, they won't hex you or anything. Not anymore."

At first, Draco couldn't quite make out the female speaker, but as she moved forward and out of the shadows as she circled the corner of the house, he recognized Ginny easily. "Of course they wouldn't," he said haughtily. "There are too many people jammed together in any given location. There's no guaranteeing they'd hit me and not random Weasleys and hangers-on."

"Afraid of catching a bad case of Blood Traitor, then?" Ginny shot back, stepping up onto the porch.

"Too late for that, Weaselette. Caught it from your boyfriend," said Draco, who quickly touched a gloved finger to his chin in mock confusion. "Or, no-- I suppose he's been mine for a while now. My mistake."

Ginny grimaced, though she almost looked amused, giving the first indication that the slapfight wasn't what it might appear at first. "Alright, that one? Was low, even for you, Ferret."

"You're dealing with a professional. Do keep up," smirked Draco. "It doesn't give me joy to point out we share the same taste in men, but if it's what I have to do to win, then so be it."

"We do not 'share the same taste in men'!" said Ginny, indignant as she crossed her arms.

"Hrm. That may be true," Draco said, nodding. "I'd like to think it's just been an extended lapse in judgment on my part."

Barking a laugh, Ginny bowed her head, amused. "And yet, here you are at a Weasley Christmas."

"Don't remind me. It's painful enough as it is," said Draco with distaste.

Ginny laughed again. "You are so whipped."

"Fuck you, Weasley," growled Draco. "Truly, you only grow more vulgar and deluded as time passes. I can't decide whether it's impressive or depressing. I'm going with 'depressing'."

Sounding altogether too amused, Ginny rolled her eyes. "You act as though any of that is news. About either of us."

"A correction to my previous assertion," said Draco, shifting from one foot to another, "I think you've put it well into 'excruciating'."

"Well, I think it's sweet, at any rate," said Ginny. "You two are clearly good for one another, though I've no fucking clue how or why and it's still a little disturbing."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, embarrassment surfacing as indignance and only half-kidding. "Remind me why I swore off of the Killing Curse?"

Harry chose just that moment to come through the back door, ostensibly smiling but looking a bit hunted. "Draco. Thank God. I was afraid I'd have to wander the house looking for you. Again." He burrowed against Draco, arms around his waist as he shivered against the cold. "Please come inside and say good night so that I don't have to be vomited upon by someone else's infant. Again."

Ginny sighed loudly. "Oh for fuck's sake. Those are my nephews you're talking about."

"Hey, Gin," said Harry, before who he was talking to finally registered. "Ginny!" Eyes wide, Harry moved away from Draco and pulled her into a hug, squeezing her tightly. "Where've you been hiding lately?"

"Around. Same place as always," Ginny shrugged as she hugged back. "I'm attached to living on the Muggle side these days. I need the distance."

Harry cocked his head at Ginny. "Your parents are going to be beside themselves."

Groaning, Ginny squeezed one eye shut. "Don't remind me."

"I'll come in with you for moral support," said Harry, ignoring Draco's matching groan.

"Nah. I can take it. Just get out of here," said Ginny, stepping away from Harry and reaching out to squeeze Draco's hand as she made for the door. "I'll cover for you."

"You're sure?" Harry asked earnestly.

"Yes," said both Ginny and Draco with varying levels of impatience.

With a small laugh, Harry said, "Alright. Thanks, Gin. Come by the flat tomorrow before you disappear again, yeah? We'll have lunch or something."

" _Late_ tomorrow," said Draco, still a little surprised that they should get along so well, or even at all. He supposed that what amounted to serving together in a war did that, and Ginny was the only person outside of Snape and Draco that had borne a Dark Mark for the Order and had lived to tell about it. (There had also been that ill-advised incident with the case of champagne after Fred and Angelina's wedding, but the three of them had vowed never to speak of that again.)

Unamused glare trained on a smirking Ginny, Draco leaned into Harry gratefully as he pulled his wand to Apparate. "Happy Christmas."

< ~----~ >

[[ __

_I don't want to talk about the fifth one._

_Alright, that was the worst in a while._

_It didn't help that we found them three bloody weeks later wondering what the fuss was about._

_Bastards._

_How dare they scare the living hell out of us like that? While completely ruining my plans for the Mediterranean?_

_Utter. Bastards._ ]]

~---~ 

Harry was whistling some carol or another as he made his way down the hall carrying two suitcases, in too cheerful a mood to be stopped. "That's it. Everything's covered," he said as he walked into the sitting room and set it down and held up a manila envelope. "I've got the Portkey, I've got the bags, the wards are reset and I'm on holiday from the Ministry for two weeks and the world can bloody well go about its Christmas celebrating while we ignore it compl... Draco?"

A large, unfamiliar owl was already winging away, and Draco was standing at the open window, letter in hand. His face was completely devoid of color, an envelope crushed in the other hand as he stared at the parchment. Harry dropped the bags and crossed the room in less time than it took to think about it.

"What is it? What happened?" said Harry in a panic as he took the letter out of Draco's unresisting hand.

"Missing and feared dead," Draco murmured tonelessly. "That's not... it's not possible..."

Harry read the parchment under his breath, "From their last communication, Remus and Severus were on their way from the Russian Ministry to the werewolf colony. However, intelligence we intercepted from the Ministry says that many of their personal effects were found at the site of a border skirmish that took place two days before the full moon... in which the resultant casualties were taken by the colony and... oh. god." Harry looked up. "That was six days ago. And the Ministry isn't sending anyone after them, not to the colony."

Draco still looked somewhat lost and out of sorts. "McGonagall didn't say what we're doing to find them. Why's that?"

"We?" asked Harry.

"The Order, prat," said Draco, frustrated. "The knights in shining armor. The perpetual rescue party."

"Oh," Harry murmured. "That 'we'." After a short pause, he swore and crumpled the parchment, not noticing that it was already smoking in his hands. He threw the crumpled mess hard at the window, not surprised as it combusted midair and hit the glass pane in a hail of embers and sparks. Turning on his heel he picked up the suitcases and stalked back to the master bedroom. "Come on."

"Come on... where?" said Draco, following, knowing that no matter how violent Harry got with inanimate objects around him, Draco was perfectly safe. (Unless he managed to get in the way of whatever object was being detonated or thrown, in which case, the sulk would be over and he'd be vehemently apologised to in very creatively penitent ways.)

"To repack a smaller bag," growled Harry, flinging the bags on the bed.

Draco swore and threw a vehemently uttered unpacking spell at the bags, adding one that sent all of the more suitable things in as well. "If he's dead, I'll kill him," he said under his breath, and could only be talking about Snape. "No self-respecting double agent survives a war only to be taken down by a werewolf colony, not when he's shagging one himself."

Harry paused in his search through the old trunks for long-unused self-defense supplies. "Are they really shagging?" Draco opened his mouth to answer, but the disbelieving look on his face said enough.

"Never mind. Pack," muttered Harry. "I don't want to know. Let's just find them."

< ~----~ >

[[ _Does the sixth one count as having been together?_

_Yes. But it will be forever known as the year you were more of a prat than usual._

_Me?! How was your leaving for all of a day and a half_ my _fault_?

_Two days. And that whole... unpleasantness was your fault._

_One and a half. And may I please remind you who dragged who into that closet?_

_Two, damn it. Only if I can remind you whose idea it was to go there to begin with._

_One and a bloody half. And I'm sorry. I just thought it'd be good to get out around other people after the one before._

__Two _. Shut up._ ]] 

~---~ 

"Hey. Having fun?"

Holding up his glass, Draco grinned crookedly. "More than I was when we first got here."

Harry snickered, the bottle in his hand mostly empty. "You can't have been standing here for more than thirty minutes."

"No," agreed Draco, "but the bartender was better company than any of the Gryffindors and Gryffindor sympathizers about."

"Potter!! You bastard, how've you been?!"

Harry's eyes went wide as Seamus Finnigan slapped him on the back hard enough to make him take a half-step forward. He spun on his heel, visibly twitchy as he shook Seamus' hand, sparing a nod for the giggling Lavender Brown at his side. "Hey, hi."

"Merry Christmas, Harry," said Lavender with a little wave around a very bright pink drink. "And um, Malfoy."

Pointedly, possessively moving closer, sliding an arm around Harry's waist and hooking a finger through his beltloop, Draco offered up a languid grin as he held his glass up. "I've no idea who you are, but sincerest season's greetings to you as well."

"Still hanging about, then, Malfoy?" Finnigan said with false cheer. "Potter here still get enough publicity to keep you in the papers?" Lavender giggled again and mouthed, 'Sorry' at Harry, very obviously not.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, "Seamus. Back off. It's Christmas."

"Yeah, yeah. I remember," said Seamus, failing in his bid to appear casual as he glared at Draco. "Hey, Harry, you remember Dean?"

"Yeah and you should too. Hey, I think Nev's looking for you," said Harry, his voice hard, cocking his head toward the crowd near the fireplace. "He's right over there."

"Come on, darling," said Lavender a little boozily. "Parvati's there, too."

"Right then. Was good seeing you, Harry," said Seamus as he allowed Lavender to tug him away.

Harry scowled as they retreated. "I'm so sorry. I've no idea what that was about."

"I do. And I have to say," mumbled Draco, as he drained his glass. "At least Lovegood was trying to be cordial with her madness over near the bar. Did you know about the nargles?"

With an amused snort, Harry said, "I hadn't heard."

"And fuck him, anyway," Draco said, still on the topic of Finnigan as he nuzzled Harry's neck. "No one of any consequence gives a damn about what any loser Gryffindor thinks, anyway." With a sly glance at Harry's half-groan of protest, he added, "Oh. Right."

Harry tugged the glass from Draco's hand and Banished it along with his own bottle. "You spent a lot of time with the bartender, didn't you?" he asked, smiling good-naturedly at the public display of affection that made it clear Draco was well on his way to comfortably drunk. Not about to complain, given he was in nearly the same state, Harry dropped a kiss to his jaw.

"Enough to make this party bearable," Draco said, shifting to murmur into Harry's ear. "Enough to want to disappear for a bit with you, I think."

"Wicked," breathed Harry as Draco nibbled on his earlobe. "Home?"

"Nuh-uh," said Draco, tugging him down the hall with a perfunctory glance to make sure no one was paying attention. "Your party's not over. We'll just take a break."

~---~ 

Caught between a snicker and gasp, Harry depended on the wall of the tiny, unused closet at the very end of the darkened corridor to hold him up, feet spread apart as far as the trousers around his ankles would allow, hand fisted in Draco's pale hair. Draco's mouth moved slowly up the length of his cock, tongue darting out to trace the veins along the underside as his fingers teased Harry's arse, finally --oh, god, finally-- pulling Harry's head into his mouth, tongue swirling. There was no question as to whether Harry was gasping or not as Draco's head bobbed, eyes darting up to catch Harry's reaction, still managing to look smug through kiss-swollen lips, wet and cherry red and stretched around Harry's cock. Harry's fingers somehow unfisted long enough to paw at the hand holding his hips steady, though his toes curled inside of his shoes so tightly they began to go numb.

"God, yeah; that's-- that'sperfectfuckyeahloveyou," swore Harry under his breath, biting his lip to keep his voice down, oblivious to the low laughter and shuffling feet outside. His fingers twisted in Draco's hair as his hips bucked up, swallowing crookedly, his stomach turning over as he murmured Draco's name.

And then the closet door was pulled open and Lavender Brown was standing no more than two feet away with her hand covering her mouth in feigned shock, apology belied by the snickering of more than just Seamus behind her. "Harry! Oh! I'm um, Sorry!"

Harry reached for the door, and even wandless, caused it to slam shut again, but the damage was done. Draco's face was flushed, his eyes narrowed as he stood. Harry reached for Draco next, murmuring, "Don't worry about those bastards," but Draco shoved him away hard.

"Get away from me."

"Wait- what?" asked Harry confused as he tried again to catch hold of Draco only to be shoved again.

"I'm fucking sick to death of you and your little Gryffindor friends," snarled Draco, pulling his wand and Disapparating with a crack that sounded too loud in the small, confined space.

Furious, Harry zipped his trousers and walked out of the closet to a small crowd of cheers and catcalls, a still-inanely giggling Lavender at the forefront of the pack.

"At least he knows his place, Potter," laughed Seamus and Harry's eyes flashed. He shoved Lavender roughly aside and didn't give Seamus a chance to protest, fist connecting solidly with his jaw and sending him sprawling.

"There's yours, wanker," muttered Harry over the 'oooh'ing crowd, not bothering to see who else he recognized as he pulled his own wand and was gone in an instant.

~---~ 

Harry had looked everywhere he could think of beginning with their home, and ending here on the ground outside Parkinson Manor looking up at what he now knew was Draco's window.

"I know you're up there," he called up with air of someone that had been at it for a while. "And I'm sorry that they were such arseholes. Even being pissed was no excuse, and for what it's worth, I clocked Finnigan hard enough to break his sodding face, and I hope I did. Would you please just-- come to the bloody window?" The window slid open, and Harry murmured, "Oh for fuck's sake. Finally," but it was Pansy that popped her head out.

"Go away, Potter. You're not welcome here."

"Come on, Pansy," Harry said, throwing his hands up. "This is ridiculous. Would you please just tell him to get his arse out here and talk to me?"

"If you weren't such a common, _plebian_ idiot _Gryffindor_ half-blood, you wouldn't have created this problem to begin with," she answered eyes narrow.

"How is this my fault?" asked Harry. "How?"

"Sorry, this question and answer session is over," Pansy shrugged, nose upturned. "Be on your way. My House-Elf will be by in the morning for Draco's things."

"WHAT?!" cried Harry. "That's it. I'm coming up there."

"Cross my wards and you'll find yourself uncomfortably and irreversibly transgendered, Potter," hissed Pansy. "And if you think I'm kidding, feel free to try, because I, for one, wouldn't mind seeing your dumb arse in a skirt."

"Fine. Fuck it," snarled Harry right back, voice rising as he spoke, feeling as though he'd been hit with a sledgehammer. "Your boy wants to play grammar school and use a go-between to _fucking leave me_ then so be it. Tell him I said to have a nice fucking life."

"There _is_ one other thing," Pansy called out as Harry turned to leave.

"What the hell do you want now, Parkinson?" shouted Harry, finding that his next sentence consisted of, "Fuck! Jesus! Christ, that's cold! You bitch!" as a pail of ice water was dumped over his head. He knew unequivocally that it had been charmed, because it seemed like the water never stopped and was leaving frost behind on his lashes, the tip of his nose and anything else it dripped off. He shivered and pulled his wand, biting off a hex in her direction that just bounced off a wall of thin air seemingly inches from her nose.

Pansy smiled nastily. "I'll give him the message."

~---~ 

Harry sat sprawled in the armchair by the fire on Boxing Day, exactly thirty seven hours after Draco had disappeared from the party, drunk despite the fact that it was only ten AM, given there was no other way he'd be able to face Parkinson's House-Elf coming to collect Draco's things. His eyes were shut, but he heard the crack of an Apparition in the room and waved his hand in its general direction. "Do whatever. Take whatever."

"I might just do that," said Draco, arms crossed as he stared hard at Harry, who sat up so fast, the bottle in his hand tumbled to the ground, spilling whatever was left onto the floor. "You were just going to let me walk away?"

"Th'fuck was I s'pposed t'do?" said Harry. "You woudn' even talk to me. I don' even know howzit mafault." With that, he sneezed into a handkerchief that went back in his pocket after the third try. "And th' fucking cow poured ice water on me and threatened my cock. Water was fucking cold."

"That she did," said Draco. "But she did that of her own volition."

"Well, tha's just ducky, innit?" said Harry, peering blearily at Draco and finally coming to the conclusion that he was moving closer. "G'way. You can't jus' leave me when it's convenient and come back whenever you want. Tha's just fu-fucked up, is what."

"I hadn't left you to begin with, you drunken bastard," Draco said, disgruntled.

"Did. Had Pansy tell me you weren' coming back. But that didn't surprise me, 'cos everyone leaves. Except how it sort of did, since I didn't think _you_ 'd leave. But whatever. 'Smy fault, anyway. Least you're not dead," Harry rambled on as he sat hard on the sofa. "Prolly would have come looking for you all-- hungover or still dru-unk and even more pathetic just for you to rip me apart again, though. 'Pologise in advance."

"Potter?" Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't have this conversation with you if you're only going to forget it when you're sober."

"You're still here?" asked Harry, slumping against the armrest.

"My god, you _are_ pathetic," murmured Draco, raising his voice to say, "Since when do you believe what Pansy tells you? You know better."

"She's your best friend 'nd whatnot," said Harry, gesturing haphazardly. "'Swhere you go when you're all bent outta shape."

"I didn't know she was going to say that to you," Draco said through gritted teeth.

"You didn't?" said Harry, cracking an eye open. "So, you're not leaving?"

"No," said Draco, reaching out to run his hand through Harry's hair. "Though I'm sorely tempted to wait until you've dried out to declare my intent to stay. And I'm never coming near that pack of bastard Gryffindors again."

"Done done done," Harry said through a smile that would have lit up the room had he been more conscious. "Tha's fucking brill'nt. Didn't wanchoou to go. I'll kick every last one of those bastards in the arse for catching you sucking me off, if you want. I c'n do that, y'know. 'M the big bad saviour man and all."

"Come on," Draco said with a great, put-upon sigh, tugging on Harry's hand. "You need to sleep this off."

Harry nodded, then groaned and curled against the armrest, pulling Draco's hand with him. "Ok. 'M good here. Now you're not leaving, I'll sleep. Tha's good. Love you. Was a mis'rable sod withouchoo. All of a day and a half, too. You're right. Pathetic."

Well past patience, Draco pulled his hand away and stalked off. "Fine. Stay there. Don't want you vomiting on me anyway."

"K," agreed Harry and promptly loosed a loud snore.

Ten minutes later, Draco was jogging down the stairs, muttering as he squeezed onto the sofa and slid his arms around a smelly, snoring Harry, "I cannot believe this." 

Harry tucked his arm around Draco, murmuring, "You prolly weren't pathetic without me. Prolly drank champagne and watched Pansy do a no-Potter happy dance."

"You'd be surprised," said Draco quietly, rubbing at his eyes.

"Mmph?" said Harry, one eye half-open.

"I said, you'll be surprised when you're sober," Draco said, backpedalling without remorse. "Go to sleep."

< ~----~ >

[[

_The seventh one was your fault, too._

_Oh now, I draw the line there._

_I don't. You cut that trip too close. You could not possibly be surprised that you were delayed._

_They needed me to go with the delegation. They swore I'd be back in time!_

_Who believes what the government tells them, I ask you?_

_Point. Not that you didn't get your revenge._ ]]

~---~ 

Harry stood at the counter of the Portkey terminal in Washington DC, staring at the counter agent in disbelief. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm afraid no Portkeys are being allowed to activate at the moment, sir, until the terminal is thoroughly searched in the wake of the terrorist scare."

Blinking again, Harry checked his watch. "No, see, you don't understand-- I promised I'd be home by tonight."

"I'm really very sorry, sir," said the agent. "Next?"

Harry hung his head speaking more to himself than anything. "Oh, Christ, I'm so dead."

"Sir?" the agent said, tilting her head at him.

"That's really nice," said Harry, the lights around the counter flickering as his anger rose. "Bet you people wouldn't be so smug if everyone worked out Transatlantic Apparition, wouldn't you? You know, bet I could. Maybe I should try it right now?"

Businesslike yet managing to display some empathy, the agent said, "No one's managed it yet, sir." Her eyes flicked to his scar. "Maybe one day someone like you will manage it, but I wouldn't advise trying it tonight, if you want to make it home to whomever you're trying to make it home to." She smiled, genuinely apologetic and a little tired. "The coffee and owl post booths are both staying open, free of charge until normal travel resumes."

Sighing, Harry finally looked at her nametag. "Thank you, Janine. I'm-- sorry. You've been more than kind." He ran a hand through his hair and picked up his bag as Janine wished him good luck, and turned away toward the coffee stand.

Once he had his coffee in hand, he sat dispiritedly, pinching the bridge of his nose as the carols piping through the speakers above grated on his nerves. All around him were people that were either huddling together or looking as upset as he. Harry set the paper cup down with a growled swear, exhaling and letting his hand fall onto the bag at his side. He could feel the outline of the miniaturized gift boxes inside and let his gaze drag up to the owl post booth, suddenly cracking a grudging smile.

###

Late Christmas morning, Harry arrived at the flat, still rumpled in the clothes he'd been wearing for the past twenty-four hours. He let himself in quietly, but as the door shut behind him, he heard a familiar voice from the kitchen.

"In here."

Harry flinched involuntarily even though Draco didn't sound as irritated as he probably had a right to be. "Hey," he said as he entered the kitchen and made for the tousled blond at the table. "I am so s... huh?"

Leaning up to kiss the very confused Harry, Draco adjusted the quilt tucked around his shoulders and smirked. "Welcome h-- back."

Brow deeply furrowed, Harry reached out to tug at the quilt, "Where'd you get that?"

"Funny you should ask," said Draco, taking a slow sip from his teacup and seemingly oblivious to Harry's consternation. "I received it in the owl post last night from a prat that couldn't balls up and say no to a last minute business trip." He kept speaking as Harry shook his head slowly in disbelief. "Honestly, I thought the gift was disturbingly domestic even given the rather graphic letter that came with it." Draco smiled languidly as he set the teacup down. "But you know, I found it's fabulously filthy to have a good wank to a pornographic letter of apology under a 'wedding ring' pattern quilt."

Harry pressed the palm of his hand against his face and groaned, "Oh my god."

"I have to admit, I was still fairly peeved until I received the post this morning," Draco went on, holding out the letter that had been sitting under Harry's next to his saucer. "I know it was addressed to you, but when I saw who it was from, I felt you wouldn't mind my opening it."

Harry took the letter and unfolded it, sinking into his empty seat. "Oh my god."

"My favorite part is where Granger talks about how touched she is that after all these years you're comfortable enough to give a gift so personal and potentially embarrassing," Draco drawled as he stood, obviously enjoying the fact that Harry was busily wishing for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. "Or possibly," he added, sliding closer to Harry, "the bit about how the Weasel got over his embarrassment once he found out how well it worked, and would send his thanks as well, but was busy being passed out with a stupid grin plastered across his face."

"Oh my fucking god," groaned Harry again, dropping the letter and covering his face with both hands this time. "I cannot believe I switched the boxes."

"At least you didn't switch the letters," said Draco. Snickering, he straddled Harry's lap and tilted his head. "And what exactly did the Weasels receive, praytell?"

Harry's answer was nothing as much as a strangled, "Ckrngnahrns." Strangled half because of the fact that he couldn't quite say the words because he didn't want to complete the visual of his two best friends having used it; the other half because Draco was quietly and no doubt purposefully shifting in his lap, and had made it clear that he was totally starkers under the quilt he was wearing in place of a dressing gown.

"I'm sorry, what?" asked Draco, ever so innocently as he rolled his hips again as he slid his hands up Harry's ribcage to his shoulders, effectively uncovering Harry's face while was at it. "I didn't quite catch that."

Easily distracted, but still completely mortified, Harry let his hands fall around Draco, eyes shut. He sighed and said quickly, "Fine. A cock ring. And a-- harness sort of... thing. From one of the finest sex shops in DC, I'll have you know."

What began as a snicker became a wild peal of laughter as Draco fell against Harry. He was barely breathing in between the laughter, somehow managing to say, "Imagine the look on--"

"Just stop, please," said Harry, letting his head loll back. "I don't want to imagine any of it."

Laughter barely receding, Draco sat up again, the grind of his hips against Harry's no accident and this time making Harry suck in a harsh breath.

"Point. And you're really out of luck because I'm not about to trade my gift back now."

Harry slid his hands around Draco's arse, kneading roughly through the thick quilt. "Pattern and all?"

"More to the point," murmured Draco, rocking into Harry's hands and nuzzling his jaw. "I know where the other gift's been and the very idea is revolting. You'll just have to buy me a new one."

"Mmyes," said Harry, stealing one hand under the quilt to run up Draco's bare side and chest. "That I will gladly do. More time to use it, too, given that I'll never be able to look at my best friends again, much less spend time with them." He ran his thumb up and across Draco's nipple, eyes snapping wide at his yelp of both pleasure and pain. There was no time to register what was different as Draco's sudden shift managed to topple the chair over backwards. Harry's head hit the tile and he exhaled a grunt that was cut short as Draco landed on him, the chair sliding out just far enough from under Harry that the edge bit a hard line just under his shoulderblades. "Ouch."

"Bloody hell--," said Draco, sliding his hand around the back of Harry's head. "Alright? Not grievously injured, are you?"

"What was _that_?" breathed Harry.

"Minor body modification while you were away," Draco grinned. "Lovely little titanium bars. Thought you might like them. I sure as hell do."

"Oh. I'm sure they're brilliant. I know they've got to be, in fact." Harry let his head thump back down, fully expecting hard tile again, but Draco's hand was still there to catch him. "Can we please take this conversation to bed where I can properly appreciate them?"

"God yes," Draco murmured, planting his free hand over Harry's shoulder. "Still planning on, and I quote, 'holding me down and fucking me hoarse'?"

"Without question," Harry growled, licking his lower lip.

"When your employers Floo looking for you tomorrow, I plan to tell them to sod directly off," said Draco, eyes alight. "Wearing only my Christmas present."

Harry snickered, suddenly far less tired as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Be my guest."

< ~----~ >

[[ _Heh._

_You're grinning like an idiot._

_  
_So what if I am?  
_ _

_It's hardly an uncommon occurrence._

__  
_Last Christmas was a good Christmas, alright?_  


_It was about bloody time._ ]]

~---~ 

The air was filled with the scent of a freshly-cut Christmas tree, and Harry was grinning breathlessly as he pinned Draco's wrist above his head, free hand sliding up and under his shirt and smoothing against his skin. With his own free hand fisted tightly in the front of Harry's half-open shirt, Draco canted his hips upward seeking more friction, but gave up with a sound caught between a whimper and a growl. He settled instead for lifting his head off of the rug far enough to nip at Harry's jaw as he fumbled with shirt buttons, only to have the other wrist pinned at roughly the level of his ear.

"Nice." Draco laughed and let his head thump down again, dragging his calf up the back of Harry's thigh. "Except now you're out of luck, unless you've sprouted another hand." He licked his lower lip and considered trying to squirm out of this situation and immediately thought better of it as Harry rocked his hips down against him. Draco had some trouble trying to resist being driven mad by the slow grind of Harry's cock against his own, undone trousers in between notwithstanding.

Harry leaned in to kiss him properly and Draco moaned low in his throat, the heel of his foot now firmly set against Harry's arse and being used as leverage with which he could rock his hips. Breaking the kiss with a gasp for air, Harry grinned, the mischievous gleam in his eye clearly stating that he was up to no good. "Even better."

Draco arched an eyebrow, given that Harry's ideas were either really fucking good, or really very bad, but he still managed to drawl out, "Astound me," not for the first time surprised when Harry did. Without bothering to reach for his wand, Harry cocked his head in the direction of the tree and hissed. Really _Hissed_ , as in, used Parseltongue, which Draco could identify easily by the goosebumps that pulled up on every square inch of his skin and an almost painful twitch of his already very interested cock. Better indeed-- the fuzzy silver garland hung that in lumpy patches on the tree seemed to slither off and down onto the ground; a strange, gleaming reptile intent on wrapping itself tight around Draco's wrists and anchoring itself to the legs of the nearby sofa. Draco was caught between a laugh and a moan as Harry lifted Draco's shirt, tongue swiping across his nipple twice before using teeth to tug on the titanium bar that had become one of his favorite toys.

And then there was more Parseltongue, and Draco shut his eyes and let it wash over him, rocking his hips into the wandering hands that were shoving his trousers and pants down past his hips. The hissing waxed and waned between nips and kisses that worked their way downward and Draco's hands strained against the garland that held them, though it was more that he wanted them on Harry than wanting to get away. Twisting, back arching, Draco tried to speak in what might be considered a bedroom murmur, stretched as he was across the sitting room rug, yet his voice was husky and too loud and completely out of control as he said, "Don't know what you're saying. Wanna know."

Those damnably green eyes that were nearly luminescent some days peered up, squinting slightly in the absence of the glasses that had been tossed aside sometime during the chucking aside of wrapping paper, and Harry set his chin just below Draco's navel. "That you're fucking gorgeous all tied down like this. That I love the fact that ancient, dark magic turns you on." Smirking, Harry tilted his head so that his lips occasionally brushed a fresh bitemark nearby in a sideways reverent kiss, his hand stroking the bare flesh of Draco's thigh and slowly creeping upward, voice low and full of intent. "That I cannot wait to suck you off, long and slow, until you're absolutely incoherent and your fingernails start going blue from how hard you tug to get loose," he murmured, bending to swirl his tongue teasingly around the head of Draco's cock, eliciting an impossibly loud moan in the otherwise quiet room. "That I'm going to leave another mark just here," he said, his thumb pressing hard on Draco's thigh, fingers digging into his hip, "and another here when I fuck you. And another set later to match."

"Fucking h--" Draco tried to say, interrupted by his own harsh intake of breath as Harry's tongue began playing along the underside of his cock, "--hell; that's... that's..."

"Mmhmm." Harry pinned Draco's bucking hips down with one hand, the other sliding up and over his flat stomach once before moving back into place around the base of Draco's cock, stroking lazily as he went on. "Floo's shut off. Hedwig's intercepting the post. Everyone we know's been accounted for. Wards are up. The world's shut out and we're shut in. And so," Harry said, moving to nibble at Draco's thigh, "this is definitely better."

As Harry's mouth closed around him again, Draco's foot came off of the ground and flailed for a moment, finally hitting the rug again with a muffled thump in concert with a groan that originated directly in the tight tangle of heat and emotion in the pit of his stomach. His mouth was moving, yes, but he wasn't quite clear on the words that were coming out of it.

"I fucking hate you, Potter. Always will."

Draco didn't need a translation for the answering bit of Parseltongue that reverberated through his very spine and shook him to the core. By now he was well familiar with, "I know."

< ~----~ >

< ~----~ >

"Smug bastard," Draco murmured from his perch on the armrest of the sofa, using his index finger to trace Harry's lips as he stood between Draco's knees, cider long gone and mugs set aside. "Think you're so brilliant now."

"Know it," said Harry, arms loosely draped around Draco and shamelessly enjoying the opportunity to be allowed this close; not physically- most of the time they were (or had just been) a lot closer before Harry was grinning quite as stupidly. It was more a matter of being allowed past all of the blocks and fears and bad memories and feeling the heady rush of having convinced Draco that he wouldn't run or leave or stab him in the back. All they'd been through had led them here, and Harry wasn't about to give that up for anything. And Draco knew it. "It's an incontrovertible fact."

"Granger teaching you her five-Galleon words?" said Draco.

"Nuh uh," Harry said, pressing a kiss to the fingers at his mouth. "Article in the _Quibbler_ on the latest developments in the hunt for the Snorkack."

Draco laughed and it carried almost none of the hard, bitter bite that it always did. "Idiot."

"Prat," said Harry, nose twitching to keep from smiling.

"Halfblood," said Draco, turning up his own nose.

"Snot!" Harry cried with much feigned indignation as he shook Draco once and forced him to tighten his grip on Harry's belt to keep from falling over.

"Stupid Gryffindor," Draco muttered.

"Lying, scheming Slytherin."

"Pain in the arse."

"Not yet, no," said Harry, this time shoving him all the way back onto the sofa and following him down. "But give me a chance. I'll get there."

"Oof!" Draco breathed as Harry landed on him. "Pervert."

Harry cocked his head at Draco, shoving the hair off of his forehead, watching him quietly for a long time. "I--"

The crack of a nearby Apparition made them both narrow their eyes. Harry shifted and pushed up onto his knees, carefully peering over the back of the sofa as Draco sat up and followed suit. There was a rapid series of knocks at the door followed by Ron's voice.

"Sorry, mate. It's me, Ron. You home? It's important."

Harry hung his head and swore under his breath.

"Is there any danger of someone dying or coming to grievous harm, Weasel?" shouted Draco.

From the other side of the door, Ron called back, "Well, no. Listen--"

"Any Dark Lords rising from the dead? World in danger of impending destruction?" Draco shouted again, and this time Harry had to bury a snicker against his shoulder.

"Um, No," said Ron. "But--"

"Then bugger off and have a nice Christmas," Draco said, still managing to sound haughty as he held Harry's face to his shoulder to keep him from arguing, the sounds of Harry's laughter and half-hearted sounds of protest muffled effectively in Draco's jumper. "Come back when we're done, if your drama is all that pressing," he added grudgingly through a snicker of his own as he squirmed under Harry, who was poking at his ribs in an effort to distract him.

"Done doing wh-- UGH," said Ron. "Ugh. Malfoy that's still vile. I don't-- UGH. Harry! Just - Floo later, yeah? UGH."

At the crack that signaled Ron's departure, Draco let Harry up, stopping whatever he was going to say with a wicked smirk and strategically placed hand. "I'm sorry-- where were we?"

< ~----~ >


End file.
